


4 Times Love Mojo Didn't Work (And One Time It Did)

by madmadeleine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels know little about sexual conquests, Canon What Canon, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, we all need a little fluff in our lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madmadeleine/pseuds/madmadeleine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels have a little known power: they can make any human fall in love with them with a snap of the fingers, but only once in a lifetime. Unfortunately, that power can be a little . . .  unreliable. This is the story of how the angels used their power, and the hilarity and heartbreak that ensued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uriel

Goddamn it, all he wanted was the key to Heaven’s armory so that he could kill some angels (not personally, of course) and then sit back and watch the show. Unfortunately, some prince (probably Joshua, that sanctimonious little bastard) had decided to put the armory in fucking Illinois, of all places. He’d left a human in charge too, probably a prophet. Uriel stepped closer. _Yep, that’s a prophet,_ he thought to himself grimly. There was probably an archangel on his ass right now, and the last thing he needed was to tangle with one of those tonight. It came to him then. _Sweet Jesus, I’m going to have to seduce this guy._ He didn’t want to waste a perfectly good seduction charm on this scrawny little dude with a bad haircut and an alcohol problem. He sighed, muttered “Here I go,” and snapped his fingers.

The little man came closer and closer to him, like a rabbit sizing up a potential threat and deciding whether or not it was worth it to run. Apparently he’d decided against running, instead walking boldly up to Uriel. Uriel, in turn, sighed and checked his watch.

“Um, dude?”

“Yes?” said Uriel in his most suave voice.

“First of all, I’m not stupid. I know who you are. Second of all, you’re stupid. I’m a prophet under the protection of an archangel, your mojo doesn’t work on me.”

Uriel’s mouth opened ever so slightly.

“Thirdly, I don’t swing that way. I hear there’s a good place down the street, though, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

The man walked back to his post with an inflated ego and a spring in his step. Uriel found it hard to move from his place. _Rejection. How do humans deal with it?_ He walked away a little humbled and a lot furious. He’d come back tomorrow. This guy wouldn’t say no to an Angel of the Lord twice, right?

(He did.)

 


	2. Metatron

All he wanted was for the cute bookseller to like him. That was all. It's not as if he wanted to breed with her, God forbid (literally), he just wanted to have coffee and talk 19th century Romantic authors. He hadn't picked that attractive of a vessel, so he figured that he'd use the little extra help that every angel had built in, and the cute bookshop girl and he would ride off into the sunset. It would be just like the stories.

He walked into the bookshop on Tuesday, just as he always did. The girl smiled at him from her place in the stacks and came over to see if he needed any help. He snapped his fingers, just once.

She immediately started batting her eyelashes and literally hanging on his arm. Metatron took a step back, immediately uncomfortable with just how well this was working. “Hi, Amanda, I’m Metatr- Marv! I, er, come here a lot, and I was wondering if you’d, uh, like to have coffee?”

“Oh yes,” she said, quite breathily. “Yes, I’d _love_ that.”

“There’s, ah, a good place just down the street...”

“Sure, Marv. That’s a great name, by the way. Unusual, too. Marv. Has a nice ring to it.”

She continued in the same vein all the way to the coffee shop, and he started to remember why he only left the hotel room once a week. She was far chattier than he’d ever thought she’d be, and she clearly had no concept of personal space.

Finally, they reached the little cafe at the end of the street. He bought two cappuccinos (not that she needed caffeine) and sat down at a table in the corner. Metatron cleared his throat and began the conversation.

“I’ve been reading a lot of Jane Austen lately, have you read her? She’s very good, very witty. What do you think of her as a storyteller?”

Amanda kept fluttering her eyelashes. “I like how well she writes about love.”

The conversation continued for several hours, and Metatron grew more uncomfortable with each passing minute. Finally he stood up, clearing his throat.

“I have to, uh, go now. Thank you so much for talking with me.” _Please never come near me again, ever._

Amanda stood up, pushing her chair back, and grabbed hold of his sweater.

“Oh, Marv! I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I feel like we just have a special connection.”

She tilted her lips up to his. Metatron jumped backwards, scattering tables in his wake.

“Take me home, Marv!” she cried. Metatron started to panic. First of all, it was the middle of the afternoon. Secondly, the one major rule that God had made him put down on the angel tablet was no. breeding. with. humans.

“T-terribly sorry, Amanda, I really am,” he stuttered. He put his fingers to her forehead and ran full speed out of the cafe. Once back at the hotel, he cracked a book and began to relax, swearing never to leave again.

In hindsight, he really should have seen this coming. Love never ended well when mixed with magic.


	3. Naomi

Naomi hated being on Earth. Why she else would she spend so much time and energy fine-tuning angels if not to be her representatives? But sometimes, even her best angels got beaten up. _Damn Castiel and his uppity ways,_ she thought to herself. _If you want something done well around here, you just have to do it yourself._ She sighed, tugged on the immaculate suit, and whooshed herself down.

Unfortunately, this mission required liaison with humans. She couldn’t just kill this one either. She was a potential vessel. The angels needed someone in government. Smiting everyone was messy, after all; having an angel in the FBI would help things. It would also make it easier to track the Winchesters.

She smiled as she approached the woman, trying very hard to look like a human in love rather than a snake after prey. This one was not what you would call devout. A little extra persuasion would be necessary.

 _Damn it. She’s straight._ Why did every angel that could do this dirty work have to be an idiot? She could be in her office overseeing things on her side of the war, instead of blowing her powers on this one small human. Naomi sighed and snapped her fingers theatrically.

“Hello,” she said, trying hard to fake shyness and insecurity.

“Hi,” said the woman in a tone that conveyed just how well Naomi’s charm had worked.

Naomi pulled the woman in for a kiss, trying very hard not to wince. After a few minutes, they broke apart. Naomi saw that the woman was breathless, her pupils blown wide.

“How’d you like to have an angel inside you?” Naomi whispered. She was going to kill Castiel, personally and brutally. And then maybe smite some humans just to take the edge off.

The woman nodded eagerly. Naomi stepped back and tilted her head up. “Go ahead, James!” she yelled. She walked away quickly and efficiently, intent on leaving the building before James got there. Transfers were always messy.

Unfortunately, her departure was delayed by the presence of every human in the building crawling on her, kneeling at her feet, professing love, begging for sexual favors. Naomi was horrified and immediately broke into a run, but the human scum clung to her feet and she couldn’t leave. Finally, she grew so angry that she threw her arms out and smote everyone within a ten-mile radius. She disappeared, leaving bodies strewn across the hallway.

God, being the leader was hard. She put her feet up on her desk and drank.


	4. Castiel

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said quietly from the passenger seat of the Impala.

Dean jumped six inches in the air, nearly sending the car careening off the road. “Cas! Don’t do that! At least give a guy some warning.”

“Look at the road, Dean. Someday your reckless driving will get us both killed.”

“Whatever, Cas. So what brings you into my car on this fine evening?”

Castiel snapped his fingers.

Dean stared blankly back at him.

Castiel snapped again, this time with his left hand.

Dean just looked at him.

“Am I doing this right? Is this how humans snap their fingers? This vessel is apparently not the most dexterous.”

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Dean was starting to look a little concerned.

“I’m, uh,” Castiel blushed and looked down at his lap. “I’m trying to seduce you.”

“What?!” Dean spluttered. He pulled the car over and turned to look at Castiel.

“I’m trying to seduce you. This is supposed to work.”  
“Snapping your fingers? Really?”

Castiel looked down, embarrassed. “I apologize, Dean. Angels know ...  little of sexual conquest. I will certainly wipe your memory of this, if you wish it of me.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm. “Cas. Wait.” He cleared his throat. “Look. I’m ... I’m no good at feelings and all that girly shit, but I think maybe there could be something here. We do have a ‘more profound bond’ or whatever, right?”  
Castiel’s face began to grow less crestfallen. “Yes...”

“So try again. No angel mojo this time, ok?”

Castiel became serious again. “Dean.”

“Yes, Cas?”

Castiel grabbed Dean Winchester’s lapels and pulled him into a kiss that was long and hard and slow. Dean was startled, to be sure, but slowly melted into the kiss.

In the back seat of the Impala, Dean murmured into Castiel’s bare shoulder, “No more love mojo, okay, Cas?”

“Agreed,” Castiel breathed before pulling Dean into another long, lingering kiss.


	5. Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fudged the timeline a bit so that Anna and Jo could meet before the events of Abandon All Hope.

Jo Harvelle’s soul was the brightest and most beautiful that she had seen in lifetimes as a celestial being. How can Castiel only have eyes for Dean, Anna thought to herself while hovering above the Roadhouse, when he’s met Jo? Anna tried (oh, did she try) to keep her mind to her duties and her work and the worries of an angel, but every time she tried to plan Sam Winchester’s death all she could see was soft blonde hair and a bright blue soul.

Finally, Anna gave in. The orders could wait until tomorrow; she had to see Jo that night. She had to use the limited time Jo had before Carthage, Missouri and death. 

Jo was apparently somewhere in Montana with a leg wound and demons all around her. Anna immediately appeared in front of her and, holding out one arm to shield Jo, smote every demon in a ten-mile radius. Quietly in the aftermath, she snapped her fingers.

Jo looked at Anna with wonder, admiration and unmistakable love. “Who are you?”

“My true name is Anael, but you can call me Anna. I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“Why did you just do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I was here, you needed help.”

“Why me? Sam and Dean are the ones that get the angelic help, not the rest of us.”

“Good things do happen, Jo.” Three weeks left before her death. Hopefully Anna could cram some good things in.

Jo stepped closer, kissing Anna on the cheek. Immediately she regretted it and stepped back. “Sorry. Thank you.”

Anna caught her wrist. “Sorry for what?”

Jo grabbed Anna by the waist and kissed her properly. “I have a camp set up, we could...”

“Yes,” Anna breathed. That night (and the next) was spent on Jo’s bunk, laughing and talking and kissing.

“I used angel mojo on you,” Anna admitted one night (three nights before Carthage. Dean would call tomorrow.)

Jo turned to look at her. “I wish you hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna murmured.

Jo wrapped around Anna. “s' ok. I would have loved you anyway, I think.”

“Really?”

“You did smite demons for me, after all.”


End file.
